


Caveman Approach, The

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-15
Updated: 2004-01-15
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: What do you do to the one you love? Why, you hit them over the head, of course.





	Caveman Approach, The

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**The Caveman Approach**

**by:**

**Disclaimer:** Despite my elaborate kidnap attempts, they're still not mine. But watch out Sorkin, one day...  
**Category:** Josh/Donna Romance/humour  
**Spoilers:** Ooooh, let me think. Well, a bit of 'The Stackhouse Filibuster' and 'The Fall's Gonna Kill You', but nothing mind-blowing.  
**Summary:** What do you do to the one you love? Why, you hit them over the head, of course.  
**Rating:** TEEN (some strong language)  
**Author's Note:** Okay, I'm not really sure what this is, I just started typing and this is what came out. Enjoy it. If you like this, you'll like "Love Story in 3 Disasters", although the two aren't related. Please send feedback. Thanks again to Carla - you haven't actually read it yet, but I know when you do, your amazing repartee of voices will continue to stun me! xxx 

"Ow"

This ice pack is cold.

Astute observation there, Donnatella.

I guess that's kind of the point of an ice pack. You know, that it has ice in it. And obviously ice would have to be cold. 

Otherwise it wouldn't be ice.

It would just be water.

Warm water.

Warm enough, and it could be steam. And steam wouldn't make much of an ice pack.

Anyway, I'm babbling.

See what being hit on the head can do?

It makes you confused.

I guess that's why people don't go round randomly slamming their heads against walls.

That, and you know, the pain.

Cause it is quite painful, being hit on the head. Hard.

I should know.

I moan again, attracting looks of sympathy from staffers in the bullpen. They feel sorry for me. I would feel sorry for me too, if I were them.

I'd think, poor woman. Working day and night to ensure the smooth running of the office of the White House Deputy Chief of Staff, and what does she get? 

She gets practically knocked out by her boss, that's what she gets.

Of course, they felt sorry for me before I got hit on the head anyway.

Just working for Josh is enough to attract the deepest sympathy from even the most stony-hearted of sadists.

Truth is, I wouldn't have it any other way. I love working for him.

Take the words "working" and "for" out of that last sentence and you would have yourself another truth. 

But lets not get into that.

I have a big enough headache as it is.

You see, in the world of Donnatella Moss, there are three types of woman.

The ones who put up with it, the ones who won't stand for it, and the ones who put up with it and secretly love it, but pretend they won't stand for it.

Confused?

Good.

So am I. So, now that you're in a suitably "Donna" state of being, let me further explain my theory.

First, I'd better explain what "it" is.

"It", put quite simply, is shit.

Shit.

You heard correctly.

Adjust not your TV set, unblock not your ears, visit not your opticians.

Thine eyes do not deceive thee.

Oh Goddd. 

Put this rubbish down to the head-hitting, ok? Which, by the way, I will explain at one point.

Right now I'm theorising.

Ready? Here comes the science part.

"It" is the kind of shit that women have to put up with from men all around the globe. Now, it doesn't necessarily have to be bad shit.

I know, you're thinking that "good shit" would be kind of an oxymoron, but hear me out.

For example, Josh gives me shit all the time.

He does.

Want some examples?

How about making me plan his travel arrangements to go see the Mets play each other in a game that doesn't count?

How about not telling me that, oh, by the way, a satellite falls to the earth every week?

How about belittling every guy I date?

But see, I like this kind of shit. Well, not so much the belittling every guy I date thing, but I have my own reasons for suspecting his motives to consist of jealousy. Which, while terribly annoying, I have to say I find quite sweet.

But the other kind of shit makes my day.

Hell, it is my day.

It's what lets me know that whatever crap may be going on with the Senate or Congress, or the military, it's gonna be okay. 

It's my anchor. 

And I love it.

Of course I can't let him know that.

 So I give him shit straight back.

He loves it too. 

And so he, in return, throws it right back at me.

Its like a big, friendly, shit fight.

I know, it doesn't sound good, but it is.

It eventually turns into this cool banter thing, and I love it.

So, getting back to the three types of women, I used to be the first kind, the kind who would put up with it.

With Josh, I've learnt to fight back, but I never used to be able to.

And the shit I got from Dr. Freeride really wasn't the good type of shit.

But I've changed.

The other type is the woman who won't stand for it.

I respect this type.

CJ is a good example. She's all for the sisterhood.

But, as much I respect it, this wouldn't allow me to have my fun

And so, if you hadn't already guessed, I'm the third type.

The woman who puts up with it and secretly loves it, but pretends not to stand for it.

Trust me to be the one with the confusing name.

But to get back to the point of this whole entire thing - I now have a headache.

And it's not from all that thinking, before you say it.

It's from the large bump on my forehead.

Large, and I might add, extremely unattractive.

But to explain this further, I have to go back in time.

Back in time to a handy example of me exercising my role as the third type of woman.

Back in time, in actual fact, to just two and a half hours ago.

Observe, readers, how innocent my mind was then, how blissfully ignorant that the sky was quite literally about to come crashing down on my head......

 

****

Two hours ago

 

"Josh!"

"No!"

"Josh!"

"No!"

Damn. He's walked into his office and closed the door.

Ha. As if he thinks retreating into his male sanctum is really gonna discourage me.

Does he know me but at all?

It's time to do some barging.

"Josh!" I say as I expertly barge.

"Donna! You can't just barge in!"

He looks at me as if he thought I would give up when he shut the door. Naive Joshua..

I stick out my hand. "Hi, I'm Donna Moss. Nice to meet you. I've known you for two years? I barge for a living? Ring any bells?"

He sits down at his desk and grins.

Damn.

Little does he know it, but those dimples are the one thing that might actually win an argument with me.

"Oh, *Donna* Moss" he says. "I thought you were *Donnatella* Moss, the annoying woman who's been trying to get a day off for the last two hours."

I try not to look at the dimples, and focus instead on the massive ego.

"And you're *Josh* Lyman! That's funny, cause I thought you were *Joshua* Lyman, the arrogant, self-centred egomaniac who won't grant his assistant one measly day off, the only day off she'd had in five months, because deep down, he knows that he wouldn't be able to survive one day without her."

He grins wider, and gets up. "Are you sure you're not Donnatella, cause that's the kind of facetious thing I'd normally get from her."

I fold my arms. "Josh..."

"I don't know what's goin on next week Donna, ask me tomorrow."

"Fine." Gaah! Why couldn't he have just told me that two hours ago? Stupid, egotistical lunatic, who is now...

What the hell is he doing? He's teetering dangerously on the back of the chair, rummaging on top of a cupboard.

"Josh, what are you doing?" He's shifting all these massive dusty volumes around.

They look like they could kill a guy if one landed on his head.

"I'm lookin' for the -" he coughs, having unleashed a cloud from the dust covered volumes.

He is wobbling dangerously. "Josh, be careful.." I warn.

"You might want to consider holding onto the chair there, Donna."

I do as I am told.

"Got it" he says.

There is a sudden movement on top of the cupboard as he jerks a gigantic book from the pile.

I look up..

OOOWWWW!!

OW!

OW!

BLOODY HELL! 

That bloody hurt, if you hadn't got that! Something half the size of the Statue of Liberty just hit me on the head!

"Donna?" Josh jumps down. "Oh my God, I'm sorry, all you all right?"

"Of course I'm not all right!" I look at the book that just about killed me. It's huge! "You just about killed me, you buffoon!"

"Donna? I'm so sorry!"

He grasps my head with both hands and looks straight into my eyes.

Mmm.

Anyway.

"Are you all right?"

Time to get my own back, I think.

I feign an ignorant expression and look at him searchingly. "Who are you?

"Donna?" A flash of fear crosses his features before he sees I'm joking. He sighs in relief. "What are you playing at? You frightened the life outa me!"

"What am I playing at?" That's rich. "This coming from someone who just tipped the entire American National Library over my head?"

Whoa.....room spinning...

I'm okay now. But that was weird.

I gingerly feel my head and close my eyes against the thumping. "Oww..."

"Donna?" I open my eyes to see his full of concern. "Sit down."

I sit down on the chair and blink a bit. "I'm all right now" I insist.

He's kneeling in front of me, feeling my head for bumps.

I'm not entirely sure what he's planning to do if he finds one.

Kill it, perhaps?

"I'm sorry" he repeats.

I smile in response to show him that I'm not really mad at him.

"What the hell.....?"

We both turn round to see Leo looking at us from the doorway, with an extremely puzzled look on his face.

I don't blame him.

If I was the White House Chief of Staff, and I walked into an office to see my Deputy kneeling in front of his assistant with his hands in her hair, I would be a bit confused too.

Josh tries to explain, but still keeps feeling my head. "Leo, I think I broke my assistant!"

"What did you do?"

Now, not that I'm not enjoying Josh's fingers running through my hair, but I'm kinda uncomfortable doing it with Leo, like right there!

"He dropped a book on my head" I explain. "I'm fine" I tell Josh, removing his hands from my head.

"You're okay?" Leo asks me. I nod, but Josh is still looking at me concerned.

"Get some ice on it" suggests Leo. "Josh, we're late. Come on, she'll be fine."

Josh stands up and so do I. "He's just worried in case I sue him."

"See?" says Leo. "She's making jokes, she must be okay."

"I'm not joking" I say as I follow them out of the office. 

"You're sure you're okay?" Josh says as he leaves.

"No," I say."I'm calling my lawyers right now!"

"Ice!" he calls down the hall.

 

Which brings us back through the mists of time to this very moment, in which I trying to concentrate on this memo whilst holding an ice pack to my head.

It's been two and half hours since Josh went off with Leo. He should be back in five minutes.

Do you think that by that time, this mother of a lump smack bang in the middle of my forehead will have gone away at all?

It's so horrible! It's not just red, but purple and blue as well, and you just know that its gonna be one of those ones that turns an attractive shade of greeny yellow in it's later life.

Plus the fact it's about the same size as the dome on Capital Hill.

I look like Frankenstine's monster.

Actually, I look like Frankenstine's monster's monster.

In short, like hell.

I look in my mirror again. 

Aaaarrghh!

Kill me now!

Stupid Josh! Although, he was being quite sweet about it, always apologising and asking if I was okay. 

Which, now I come to think of it, is quite insulting.

Oh what? Cause I'm a woman, I must instantly die cause I got a bump?

I don't think so.

Not this Donnatella Moss. 

I'm tough, okay?

He thinks this is gonna bother me? 

Just watch this space!

Owwww.......

Also, he'll just feel incredibly guilty if he sees this horrific bump. I'll just tell him it's worse than it looks.

But, actually that's a lie, cause I feel exactly how I look.

But he doesn't have to know that.

"Donna!"

Oh shit! 

What will I do with the ice pack?

He's coming round the corner!

Yes! Genius!

I quickly stand up and sit down again, quickly hiding the ice pack by sitting on it.

Ohhh. Not so cunning.

Fuck, good fuck, my ass is cooold.

No time. As he walks up I casually rest my head on my hand, concealing the bump.

"Donna?"

"Hi!" I say brightly.

"How are you?"

"Good! How was the meeting?"

"Okay. How's your head!"

"Good!" (Freeeezing ass!!!)

"Okaaay" he looks at me suspiciously.

It may have something to do with the expression on my face as I come to terms with the fact that I am sitting on ice right now!

"Are you okay?"

"Yes!" (Oh fuck, hurry up and go, if I don't stand up soon...)

"Donna..."

Oh I can't take it anymore! "Aaaaaah!"

He jumps. "Donna?"

"My ass" I whimper.

He looks at my seat and picks up the ice pack."Donna, why were you sitting on your ice pack?"

"To hide it" I admit.

"You still need it? Donna, maybe you should get your head checked out."

"Thanks!"

"No, I mean.."

"I know what you mean, I'm fine!"

He looks suspiciously at my hand, which is still in a bump-covering position.

I walk away from him towards some filing cabinets.

"Donna?"

I turn reluctantly around to face him.

"Let me see?"

He gently takes my hand and I let him move it away.

"Whoa!"

Thanks. Way to make a girl feel attractive, Josh.

"It's worse than it looks" I say.

"Yeah!" he says. "Well, it looks bad!"

"It's fine!"

"Whoa!" comes a different voice.

We turn to see CJ staring at my head.

Great.

Roll up, roll up, see the freak show that is Donna Moss.

"What happened to you?"

"Josh dropped a book on me."

"What!" she goes to hit him.

"Not on purpose!" he protests.

"Honestly Joshua! If you wanted to seduce her, you didn't have to go for the caveman approach!"

"I beg your pardon?" Josh asks.

"I mean, you didn't actually have to whack her over the head. Watch out Donna, he'll drag you back to his cave in a minute."

I can't help but laugh, but Josh glares at her. "Thank you for that, Claudia-Jean. Go away now."

She does. I turn back to Josh, who's still looking at me worridley.

"Josh" I say. "Don't look at me like that, I'm fine."

Unfortunately, my eyes pick that moment to go blurry and I feel like I'm losing my balance.

"Donna!" he grabs me and holds me steady.

I regain my balance. "I'm okay."

"Right, that's it, I'm taking you to the hospital right now."

I sigh. There's no point, cause I know I'm fine, just a bit concussed. I fell on my head enough times when I was a kid to know when I'm okay and when I'm not.

But he looks so concerned, if this is the only way he'll feel better then....

"Okay" I tell him. 

He smiles in relief, and gets my coat.

"Sam!"

"Whats up?" he shouts back.

"I'm taking Donna to get her head checked out. She hit it..." he sighs. "Actually, I dropped a  book on her."

"Okay" Sam says, as if this is just a regular occurrence.

Mind you, I think people round here have come to accept the unpredictability of Josh and me. So he drops a book on me once in a while? So what's new?

 

20 minutes later, we're sitting in a crowded hospital waiting room.

Some sort of inebriated vagrant has fallen asleep on Josh's shoulder, and he's suffocating from the rancid fumes emanating from his clothes.

He tries to shove him back against the seat, but he just falls back again with a contented snore.

I try to conceal a laugh at the frustrated look on Josh's face, but I don't succeed 100%.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You."

"I'm doing this for you, Donna!"

"Wrong. I am, in fact, doing this for you."

"How do you work that one out?"

"Well, I know I'm fine. You, on the other hand feel guilty, and I'm making you feel better by letting you bring me to this evil land of disinfectant and orange plastic seats."

"I'm not doing this *just* because I feel guilty."

"Really."

"Yeah! I do have, you know, a slight professional interest in your health."

"*Professional* interest??"

"Yeah, if you're not okay, I'll have to find a temp."

I scowl, and he laughs, but his grin soon disappears as the rather fragrant old man shifts slightly on his shoulder.

"You know what, I'm just gonna stand up!"

"You can't move!"

"Why not?"

Uh, because then you won't be right beside me, and let's face it, that's my favourite place for you to be. Yes. I'm sure that would go down well.

"Because he'll fall onto me!" (Better)

Josh sighs and looks at the man. "Fine."

"Thank you."

He looks at his watch and rubs his eyes wearily. "How long does it take to get some service in this place?"

"Josh, it's not a chipper. There are people here with actual injuries, y'know."

"It's been hours."

"It's been 20 minutes."

"It didn't feel like it."

I exhale sharply. If he didn't want to come, why the hell did he bring me, the idiot. I stand up. "Let's just go, then. It was you who wanted to come in the first place, not me."

But he catches hold of my arm, pulls me back down and doesn't let go. "We're not going anywhere until I'm absolutely sure you're okay."

"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll still be able to answer your phone."

I must have snapped that last sentence, cause he frowns at me. "Donna, you know I was only joking right? I brought you here to make sure you're okay, not cause I don't want a temp. I feel awful about what I did to you."

I sigh. "I know you do."

He moves his hand from my arm and places it over my own hand. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I...I care about you, Donna."

My eyes widen, and I think my mouth drops open. He holds my eyes for a second longer then looks away.

I don't know how to react, what do I say? What does he even mean?

In the end, I decide to remain silent, but I interlock my fingers with his. He smiles.

We both say nothing for about five minutes, and for a minute I forget that I'm in a hospital with some wine-soaked tramp two feet away, it's just me and Josh, Josh and me.

Suddenly he breaks the silence, but he doesn't look at me. "Donna?"

"Yeah."

"You know what CJ said?"

"What did she say?"

"About the whole caveman approach thing."

"That was pretty funny."

"It wasn't, but that's not the point."

"What is the point?"

"The point is, she's wrong."

"No kidding, Joshua, even I didn't think you'd be stupid enough to seduce a woman by knocking her out."

"Fair's fair, I didn't actually render you unconscious."

"That's only due to the fact that I have an exceptionally thick skull."

"Okay. What I'm saying is, if I wanted to seduce you, I'd you know, come up with something better."

"Okay."

"And just because I didn't, doesn't mean I don’t want to." He finally breaks eye contact with his knee and looks at me.

I'm puzzled. "You want to knock me out?"

"Yes, if that would result in you understanding what I mean quicker."

"Joshua..."

"Yes?"

"You....you want to...seduce me?"

"To put it bluntly."

I can't believe this is happening. I search his face for some sort of indication that this is a joke, but all I see is his honest, open face and his warm brown eyes. "How else could you put it?" I ask, beginning to smile again.

"How about like this?" he asks, before leaning in to kiss me.

I'm shocked, but that doesn't stop me kissing him back, pulling him closer.

We're so caught up in each other that we barely notice the old guy falling off Josh and onto the poor guy on the other side, and I barely hear the nurse call my name.

"Donna Moss?"

We break apart, looking each other in the eyes before facing the nurse.

"That's me," I say breathlessly.

The nurse smiles. "You had a bump on the head, I understand."

"Yes."

"She must have done" Josh says. "Sister, this woman just kissed me back, she definitely needs her head examined."

The nurse smiles again and beckons us through.

"I love you" Josh whispers as we follow her.

"I love you too."

He laughs, obviously wondering if my mental state has been affected. It must have been, I just pledged my heart to an arrogant, swaggering egomaniac.

But you know what? 

He's *my* arrogant, swaggering egomaniac.

So there.

THE END


End file.
